


Hoot

by MaverickWerewolf



Category: Original Work, Wulfgard
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Gift Fic, Original Fiction, Owls, and fluffy feathers, not with the owl though, too much innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 06:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16907745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverickWerewolf/pseuds/MaverickWerewolf
Summary: This is what happens if you put Tom, Caiden, and Sadja together with some hunger (of various kinds) and a new pet owl. And it's not dirty like that just sounded; promise.





	Hoot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChronicallyOwlish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronicallyOwlish/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Owlish. <3 I hope you enjoy this bit of cheerful silliness, and that maybe it'll help brighten your day.

Forests were pretty awesome, really. The cool, crisp night air, the rhythmic chirping of crickets hiding in the underbrush, the earthy tang of freshly-fallen pine tags…

Wind whispered gently through the thick branches of the tall evergreens, brushing the needles together in quiet, distracting rustles. But hey, that was fine. Tom wasn’t worried. For once, nobody was after him – not right now, anyway. There weren’t any monster hunters in these woods.

Well, except one, but he was a best friend. Details.

Tom sat on a knotted old log by the campfire, staring into the dying embers. He didn’t need the light, anyway, so he didn’t bother poking it back to life right now. Something in him, and he knew what it was, preferred the soft silver moonlight and the way it cast the world in a pleasant glow of blue.

It’d been a long time since he’d gotten to actually _like_ the moon. At least he was finally getting a handle on his lycanthropy now, though.

Well, sort of. His stomach growled so loud the crickets in his vicinity stopped chirping like they’d all collectively thought _oh shit_ , and Tom only wanted one thing right now: food. No, not just _food_. He wanted meat. _Flesh._ Oh sure, yeah, he wasn’t a monster— promise.

Sadja had bragged a few hours ago about cooking them all the most amazing meal ever or something, Tom hadn’t really listened, because he’d been a little busy drawing in his journal. Caiden had been sitting nearby and staring at whatever uncooked food Sadja had been showing off, but, y’know, Tom hadn’t been hungry.

At the time. Now he was fucking _starving._

And now Sadja wasn’t here and Caiden wasn’t here and they hadn’t been here for hours and holy shit, he was hungry.

Sadja’s bags _were_ here, though, and the smell of food coming from them made Tom’s mouth water. He glanced at it.

Nah. He shouldn’t.

Gods, it smelled good.

Tom swallowed. His stomach growled _again_ , and he frowned at that stupid bag that smelled like when he sank his wolf fangs into a deer. And that tore it.

Scooching down the log, he snatched the bag and started digging around in it. Oh yeah, here it was – lots of meat wrapped up in cloth she’d carried back to this campsite to cook. Still fresh, still bloody, still smelling acrid and coppery and he shouldn’t like it but he _loved_ it.

So he pulled the hunk of meat out and started gnawing on it. Hey, there wasn’t anybody around to judge him, alright? He’d clean up long before anybody got here.

He ate all the venison down to the bone and then tossed the bone over his shoulder. And something flew right at his head.

“Frikkin’ _shit_ —” he blurt-growled very eloquently as he ducked the swooping angry _woosh_ that almost nailed him in the face. Feathers whipped cold air past his ear, and Tom bristled, turning to glare at it as whatever it was landed in a tree somewhere behind him.

It was an owl. A _big_ fucking owl, with a pair of perfectly round, perfectly yellow eyes staring at him, and all the rest of it was nothing but puffy orange-brown fluff flecked with black. Well, and some feathers on the back of its head poking up like Tom’s hair would’ve theoretically tried to do when he finished a night of seriously rough sex (what?) if, you know, he didn’t have _perfect_ hair.

Somewhere off to his left, Sadja called, “Hoot? H _oo-oot_ , where you go?”

She came padding into the clearing before Tom even had time to open his mouth (which meant pretty damn fast, because he could open his mouth like— nevermind). Sadja gave him a look and tilted her head, staring.

Shit, yeah, the blood. He still had blood all over his hands and face.

So he put on a lopsided, innocent – _not_ innocent; guilty as hell, in fact – grin and said, “I found your, ah, owl. It’s right back there.”

“Frigg’s oversized _bollocks_ , you ate _all of it?_ ”

Tom sputtered, wiped his mouth off on his shirt that was laying beside him on the log. Whoops. But it wasn’t like he _needed_ that shirt. And no he didn’t have a shirt on right now, why would he?

And he blurted, “I got hungry!”

“Voros’ll be ten times hungrier, maybe I’ll just let him eat _you_.”

Tom’s jaw worked, but his brain stopped, because wow that sounded a little vile.

Sadja paused when Tom did and then added, “But only if I’m invi—”

“Oh _suuure_ …”

The owl struck again.

It swooped right for his hand, actually. Tom yelped and pulled his hand away, sending the owl rushing past him again, until it landed gracefully on the ground and ruffled its feathers, turning around on its great taloned feet – but not in time to keep up with its head, which swiveled right around to stare at Tom again the second it’d landed.

“The fuck is wrong with that thing?” Tom snapped.

Sadja snickered. “You got blood all over your fingers, Duckling.”

Tom paused and glanced at them, shrugged, and started licking them clean – while the owl, in a rush of wings, zoomed up onto the log right beside him and stared like its enormous eyes were going right through his soul.

Sadja scrunched up her nose at all his blood-licking. “Ew.”

He snorted. “Give me a break, you’ve done worse. I’ve seen you with—”

Caiden tromped into the clearing, looking exceptionally grouchy _and_ hungry.

Tom froze, put on that stupidly guilty grin again, and said, “Hi, Caid.”

Turning, Sadja said flatly, “Duckling ate all the food.” She cut off that rumble or growl or whatever noise was in Caiden’s chest by adding, “But that’s okay, ‘cause Hoot can catch us some more.”

“Seriously though,” said Tom, “what’s with the owl?”

“I found her hunting in the woods and we made friends. She likes catching mice, so we caught a couple mouses together.” And Sadja, because of course she did, reached into a little bag she had slung over her shoulder and produced a dead mouse that she held over to the owl, who promptly snapped it up in her beak.

Caiden huffed.

“Voros, you weren’t going to eat the _mouse_.”

“I’m almost hungry enough…”

“Hold out your arm.”

Caiden gave her a look. A _look_ look, followed by a _grrmph_ , which Sadja could apparently translate but Tom would be screwed if he knew what that meant. And Caiden put his hands on his hips instead, really closely resembling a giant towering human wall eating up more space than anybody ever really should, but if anybody could eat up anything – including just _space_ – it was him.

“Spoilsport…”

He huffed. And, after a moment, extended his right arm.

Sadja grinned. “Hoot!” she called. Like someone calling a name, not imitating an owl.

But the owl apparently understood that anyway, because she spread her enormous, freckled wings and took off in a gust of air that made Tom blink. She neatly landed on Caiden’s outstretched arm, settling there and clicking her beak a few times, puffing herself up but looking almost happy to be there.

Sadja grinned. “See? She’s a nice lady.”

“Yeah,” Tom put in, “she’s a real hoot.”

Caiden rolled his eye.

“But she’s a little owlish.”

Now Caiden pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand and halfway groaned. Sadja just giggled and grinned wider.

Even though she said, “Really reaching, Duckling.”

“Hey, you laughed!”

Hoot, meanwhile, was busy scooting her way up Caiden’s arm. Which really put those big bare biceps of his in some danger from the talons hiding under all the copious floof, but Hoot didn’t stop until she reached one of Caiden’s shoulders to use as a nice expansive perch.

And then started nibbling his ear. Caiden blinked, grunted, and ducked his head away, rolling his shoulder while the owl still stood on it. That didn’t really discourage her – her head stayed in perfect place, completely still while the rest of her body bobbed when Caiden’s shoulder moved, and she kept on nibbling.

“She’s the best,” Sadja said factually.

This time, Caiden huffed – and actually said something, too. “You say that about all of them.”

“She’s the _best_ best.”

The best best abruptly finished nibbling on Caiden, the same instant he reached up to stop her, and spread her wings again. With a powerful flap (that bapped Caiden on the head and made him look grouchy as fuck, as if he didn’t already), Hoot glided on over to Tom’s shoulder instead.

“Shit— ah. Hi,” Tom said, craning his neck back to look at the owl settling down on him and _gods fucking CLAWS on his SKIN—_ He grimaced. “Yeahokayyou’vegotanicegrip…”

Hoot promptly nipped him on the nose.

_“OW!”_

He heard Sadja snicker while he was busy covering his nose with one hand and pinching his eyes shut, and he heard her telling him again _you got a big nose, Duckling,_ and the duck bill jokes. He had an _Imperial_ nose, thank you. This was a sign of noble blood and dragon blood and it was regal as hell. Not to mention attractive.

“Ha ha…” Tom muttered, but neither of them were paying attention now. Sadja was yammering about something else, punctuated now and then by a _huff_ or a _grunt_ like _grmph_ or a rumble and _rrrr_ and _hrrm_ and all those other chest and throat noises Caiden made and why the hell was this owl still on his shoulder and were they just _ignoring_ him?

Hoot nipped his ear. Gently, but still a nip.

“Alright, alright—”

Tom looked at Caiden and Sadja again to tell her to get her pile of moody feathers off his shoulder, but there they were, Sadja practically hanging off Caiden’s belt with one hand and the other one grabbing the harness around his shoulders so she could scale him and give him a kiss. Tom caught them right in the act of it. And from the way Caiden’s hands started getting all exploratory…

Yeah, they were ignoring him. Or, well, _Sadja_ was ignoring him, and Caiden was – hungry and in a mood.

Tom blinked. “Ah shit.”

On his shoulder, the owl commented softly, _Hoot._

“I know, right? She just won’t stop. She’s almost as bad as I am, and I’ve never seen _Caid_ get that bad, but she really brings it out in him. ”

Head swiveling, Hoot turned her round eyes on Tom instead. _Hoot?_

“No, I mean the horniness in general.”

 _Hoo-hoot._ A quiet, conversational little sound, and good gods it was cute.

“Yeah. If you wait a second, Caiden’s gonna just pick her up and carry her off like he’s a fucking…”

Right when Tom gestured in their general direction for emphasis and for Hoot’s benefit, Caiden swept Sadja up in his big manly arms and she hooked hers around his neck and they disappeared into the woods like the craziest weirdest couple out of some romance novel. Sadja just needed a ripped bodice and Caiden needed some oil or lots of sweat. Both of which they’d probably have in a minute, if Sadja’s excuse for clothes counted as a bodice.

And yeah, Tom felt a little sore. All he had was an owl.

At least she was soft, which he found out when he started petting her fluffy chest. Hoot seemed to enjoy that, and the talons that’d dug into his skin relaxed just a little. Enough for her to sway there, but not quite fall off.

“You’ve got nice feathers,” he said.

 _Hoot!_ she replied happily, closing her eyes like she wanted to smile if beaks could do that, and those lovely feathers puffed all up.

Tom snickered, moved his fingers up to scritch near her neck. That got her leaning forward and teetering on his shoulder, eyes still shut, and she turned her head in a full circle.

“Look at me, I’m flirting with a bird…”

 _Hoo_.

“Yeah, I know. _You_ _’re_ not judging, right?”

 _H_ oo _-hoo._

He scritched a little more. “I bet you wouldn’t even judge when you find out I’m a werewolf.”

 _Hoot?_ She opened her eyes again and seemed to give him a look. Then started grooming his nearest eyebrow.

“Yeah, alright,” Tom said with a dumb grin, “you’re definitely flirting now.”

Hoot fluffed up again, scooting a little nearer to his head.

“You sure you’re not secretly a person?”

At that, Hoot paused, gave his eyebrow one more nibble, and leaned over just a little to look him in the face, now that she was this close.

Then she winked.

She _winked._ The owl. Winked.

And Tom just stared.


End file.
